♣ mediated by @orphanerDualscar
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Canon Divergent - She's very black-coded (the writer is also black) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Gender: Female Pronouns: She/Her Sexuality: Bisexual Title: Her Affluent Socialite ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- We gotta completely ignore canon for Trizza here. She's had a few years of character growth, RP-wise, before being here, and achievements. She is the current Empress of her Alternia. She, while still pretty awful, she has grown due to her friendships. She still loves herself, and she will post about hating men. I've got a low tolerance for instant aggro! So if you're overly hateful or aggressive with her, I'll block! If we're both not having fun, it's not fun at all. BIG timeline note: She never met the humans and I don't focus on any of the human stuff for her timeline. There isn't a lot of game related aspects here as the game has let me down and disappointed me. So I am not listening to it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
writin' this down, cap'n.
((Delicious delicious lore. I hope I didn't cross you too bad by tagging Mindfang on that other post.))
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⋆﹏𓊝﹏⋆⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Captain's Log ----------- #journal #viewed-oocly #inperson #narration (Omnipotent / Seer muses like Scratch may potentially read it) ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⋆﹏𓊝﹏⋆⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ~ On the 3rd ~ ------ I have 8arely spent an evening navig8ting the uncharted currents of these digital waters, seeking to replace the familiar miles I traverse in person. There, I am confronted with a parade of facsimiles, iter8tions of the Orphaner whose patterns are as predicta8le as the tide. He ha8itually raises her name, even centuries after the fact, as if jealousy still rattles in his gut. In the dreamlands I have explored, no incarn8tion of her ever consents to speak to me again; he has slain her as he would a 8east, as if offering her 8ody to the Empress’s mother to feast upon. I never got to set her free at the dockside, to allow her to run into the forest in which would unite her to the scri8e. He recounts that I have romantically 8een at his side for countless centuries, and, indeed, that 8ears a kernel of truth. I am left to wrest the 8itterness from my mouth, for all the luminaries who have occupied my quadrants were merely the fulfilment of an oracle’s decree. I felt nothing genuine for them, only a perfunctory performance designed to steer me toward a destiny pre‑ordained. Only now, li8er8ted from the pedantic tutelage of that or8-head entity and the mass illusion that once shackled me, can I look 8ackward and sense something un rehearsed, something not scripted for an inevita8le future. I ought not to linger on his memory. I shall convince myself that our shared quadrant was a fa8rication, a device meant to ensnare the imagina8ion of a descendant I shall never meet. Perhaps I will shatter the lingering reminder of a past in which no one truly possessed any affection towards me. To distract oneself, I will peruse the messages of the merchants who have sought my advert. I must sample the wines they may own. I require a potency stronger than that which currently sustains me after this evening.
YOU ARENT JUST A JOKE, YOURE A PRETTY GOOD ONE